


No Good Deed

by neon_valley



Category: DCU, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neon_valley/pseuds/neon_valley
Summary: What was it about the meteorites that turned the perfectly sane, intelligent people he'd hired into complete morons?Clark gets injured in an accident in one of Lex's labs and it is up to Lex to save him. But as they say, no good deed stays unpunished.





	1. Chapter 1

"Almost there," Lex tried to reassure Clark but only got a weak grunt as a response. He paused briefly to wipe the sweat from his forehead with a shaky hand. It wasn't sweat. Lex cursed and wiped his bloody hand on his jacket. He adjusted the grip he had on Clark's arm and took a deep breath before he continued to drag his barely conscious friend out of the green sparkling air of the storage facility. Clark was starting to worry him.

What was it about the meteorites that turned the perfectly sane, intelligent people he'd hired into complete morons? 

He thought he'd taken all necessary precautions this time, but no. Months of research had gone up in a literal puff of dust. He'd have to handpick the next group of scientists himself. And that was not even getting into what the hell Clark was, had been doing in his lab.

Clark stumbled and started to slip from Lex's sweaty grip and Lex paused at the short flight of stairs leading to the outside. He bent forward breathing hard, his vision graying at the edges. He could feel blood trickle from his head wound, drip onto the concrete floor in front of him but he had to continue, had to keep moving while he could, his own strength draining fast. 

Drenched in cold sweat, his heart beating furiously in his chest, Lex dragged Clark up the last step and past the monitoring room. The guard inside was slumped over his desk, presumably dead. Lex's eyes flicked up to the array of monitors on the wall. The CCTV was still recording and Lex made a mental note to get hold of the footage later. Maybe it could give him some of the answers he knew Clark wouldn't. 

Careful not to jostle his useless right arm, Lex more dragged then carried Clark the last laborious steps to the parking lot. His arm was definitely broken and it throbbed with white-hot pain with every step Lex took, but none of that mattered. Clark was barely breathing and he had to get him out of here, away from the meteorite. He had to. Not was not an option. 

Clark was still slung halfway across his shoulders as they collapsed against the outside wall. Lex took a steadying breath of air. He didn't think he'd be able to drag Clark even one more foot. Clark's face was ashen and Lex gently touched his cheek; he didn't remember when Clark had lost consciousness; it couldn't have been more than a few minutes ago. 

Breathe, Lex whispered. Why aren't you breathing?

Lex wondered if he had it left in him to give CPR. He was clinging to consciousness by the fingertips of adrenalin himself. But Clark wasn't breathing. 

Lex desperately pressed his lips to Clark's trying to get air, life into him. Clark's lips were rough like they'd been coated in sand and Clark still wasn't breathing and -- 

Suspicious, Lex brushed his thumb over Clark's lips and it came back dusted in meteorite. 

They were both covered in the stuff, he realized, it had been everywhere in the laboratory. That had to be it. Lex vividly remembered Clark tied to the cross, unable to free himself and his idiosyncratic reaction to Lana's necklace. He had to get it off off Clark, sooner rather than later.

Lex ran his hand over Clark's face, through his hair, trying to dislodge as much of the green powder as possible. Clark not breathing scared him.

Getting Clark out of his shirt proved harder than he'd thought. For one he had to do it one-handedly. 

By the time he had freed one of Clark's arms from his flannel shirt, Lex was drenched in cold sweat. He tugged at the other sleeve and then threw the shirt, balled up, over his shoulder as far away from them as he could. 

Clark took a shuddering breath that had Lex's heart skip a beat. Clark was breathing! Lex leaned his forehead against Clark's, euphoric with relief. 

Clark's skin, though, was still an unhealthy grey with ghastly green protruding veins. His jeans sparkled green in the sunlight peeking out from behind a cloud. Lex sighed, he'd have to remove those too.

Getting Clark's jeans off was much easier and for once Lex thanked the current fashion for its hideous bagginess. Clumsy with exhaustion he nevertheless managed pushed them down to Clark's ankles, trying to get the contaminated material as far away from Clark's vital organs as possible.

Lex suppressed a hysteric giggle. This was not how he'd envisioned getting into Clark's pants.

The sun came out from behind the clouds, highlighting just how much meteorite was left on Clark's clothes. Exhaustion dragged at Lex's efforts, making him sluggish. His head throbbed from where Miller had hit him with a desk lamp, but there was no one else here. It had to be him. He was just so tired. Lex sighed and pulled up the hem of Clark's shirt to get a better view. Damn, the stuff really had gotten everywhere. 

Lex didn't think he'd be able to get Clark's T-shirt off, and he didn't have the strength left and he had nothing to cut it with anyway, so he pushed it up as far up as it would go and used the sleeve of his jacket to clean Clark's chest as best as he could. 

Clark's elbow bumped against Lex's broken arm and Lex screamed in pain. His vision blackened around the edges. He curled up on himself, pushed so far beyond pain and exhaustion that he thought he might fly again. His head came to rest on Clark's shoulder and all he could think was 'please be alright' just before he passed out.

When the ambulance arrived Lex was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Lex adjusted the Velcro on his air-cast. The damn thing was annoying but a necessity. Normal people didn't heal from a broken arm within three days and the last thing he needed was his father finding an excuse to experiment on him again.

His eyes flicked over to the pool table. At first, Lex had been too busy cleaning up the mess Miller had made of his lab to notice but now it had been almost two weeks without so much as a glimpse of Clark.

Other than avoiding Lex, Clark seemed to be fine and going about his life as normal. He went to school, hung out at the Talon and did his chores, as far as Lex had been able to gather.

He'd tried calling the farm but had gotten no further there. Mrs Kent had firmly but politely told him that Clark was busy. Mr Kent, that one time he'd gotten him on the phone, had just hung up without so much of a good evening.

Lex sighed. Whatever it was it had to be about the incident at the laboratory. The Kents probably blamed him for Clark getting hurt in the first place.

Not one to give up easily, Lex had even camped out in the kitchen during Clark's usual delivery time but somehow Clark had managed to drop off the produce in the few minutes it had taken Lex to answer a phone call.

Whatever Clark blamed him for, this was getting ridiculous. He needed to talk to Clark, to find a way to make amends. He missed his friend, missed their time together, missed being just Lex for a few short hours.

Lex checked his watch. At a quarter to seven Clark should be at home, it was a school night after all. He grabbed the keys to the Porsche. Maybe Clark would let him apologize in person, even if he wasn't quite sure what he had done.

He drove down the gravel driveway, parking, as he always did, near the barn. He'd barely turned off the motor when he saw Mr Kent stick his head out of the kitchen door and, then as quickly, disappear back inside.

Sighing, Lex steeled himself for the confrontation that seemed inevitable. He could handle a ranting Mr Kent if only it meant he got a chance to talk to Clark.

Lex got out of the car, thinking about what he would say to Clark, what he could offer to make it up to him. Gifts were notoriously tricky when it came to the Kents and Lex couldn't afford to affront them further.

"Get off my land, Luthor!" Mr Kent bellowed, making his way across the yard in quick, angry steps, shotgun held tightly to his chest.

Lex blinked and held up his hand in a non-threatening gesture. He'd expect some hostility but, barring Desiree's influence, Mr Kent had never physically threatened him before. "Mr Kent, I can assure you--"

The shot took Lex by surprise, had him frantically scramble backward in a shower of sand and dirt. Adrenaline sharpening his reflexes, making his heart beat wildly. What the hell, was this Desiree all over again? And where was Clark?

In horrified confusion, Lex saw Mr Kent take aim again. The buckshot hit just a few feet from his car.

"I said get off my land, Luthor," Mr Kent snarled, his face red with anger. He reloaded the shotgun, not taking his eyes of Lex.

Lex didn't have to be told twice. He clambered into his car and backed out of the driveway wondering what the hell had just happened. He'd expected to get yelled, not shot at.

In the rearview mirror, he noticed Clark standing outside the barn.

   
~:~

Lex poured himself a drink with shaking hands, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Attempts on his life were becoming way too common an occurrence. He downed the contents of his tumbler in one gulp, refilling it instantly. Mr Kent had never hidden his dislike of him before but this was a whole new level of hostility and Lex was wondering if he needed to look more closely into Hamilton's current side projects.

Waiting for his laptop to boot, Lex pulled the CD with the surveillance footage from his desk drawer. Had he missed something? Maybe rewatching it with Mr Kent's reaction in mind them would give him a clue.

Lex stared at the still loading screen, feeling the weight of the inevitable on his shoulders. He couldn't, wouldn't give up without a fight but the way Clark had just stood there as his father had shot at him --

At the end of his second rewatch, right where he passed out and a few minutes before Mr Kent showed up to wrestle Clark into the back of his truck, before calling an ambulance for Lex, his office door was slammed open and an angry Clark stormed in.

"Why did you do it?"

 _Enter Clark, flanked by accusations._ Lex sighed, feeling very much like Richard III at Clark's dramatic entrance. Clark accusing him of things he had and hadn't done was becoming a way too common theme. Lex flipped the cover of the legal pad he'd been taking notes on closed.

"I've been trying to talk to you for nearly two weeks, Clark." He tried to keep his voice reasonable but not knowing what he was even accused off was grating on his nerves.

"That's not an answer." Clark folded his arms in front of his chest, glaring down at Lex.

"Your father shot at me!" Lex snapped back, getting up from his chair, hand flat on his desk, refusing to give an inch. "If anyone's owed an answer it's me!"

"After what you did?" Clark's face went ashen and he took a step backward, suddenly unable to look Lex in the eye, all bluster drained from his stance. "You have some nerve showing up at my home after what you did."

"Look, I'm sorry that you got hurt, but --"

"I thought you were my friend. I can't believe you'd do that me."

"Do what, Clark?" How was it his fault that Miller had gone full Victorian and used the meteorite as food coloring in frosting?

Clark shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Look, Clark--" Something was missing, it was as if they were having two different conversations.

"My Dad found me unconscious with my pants around my ankles and your hand under my shirt." But Clark backed away from him, shaking his head. "I came here -- Why would you-- ?"

And with that, all the puzzle pieces assembled and slit into one nightmare of a picture. Clark thought he'd molested him. Lex felt like he'd been punched in the gut. No, a punch in the gut would have been kinder.

He gaped at Clark. Of all the accusations he'd expected to be leveled against him, this one had never once occurred to him.

"You think I --" Lex started and then stopped, at a loss for words.

That Clark would think him capable of that, had believed it without apparently a moment of doubt hurt more than Lex would ever admit.

Lex considered explaining what had happened, how he had carried Clark outside despite his broken arm and concussion, how he had tried to save his life, how he'd never do something like this but the words would not come and Lex thought bitterly that they were no use. Clark thought him capable of rape, how could he explain that away? When, no matter what he did, people thought the worst of him. What was the point in even trying? Prove a villain, indeed.

He frantically pushed at the eject button on his laptop, wanting Clark gone, wanting to be alone. He threw the CD at Clark the second the drive popped open.

"Get out," Lex's voice felt paper thin, dry and cracking, barely above a whisper.

Unable to keep the hurt from showing, Lex turned away from Clark, looking out the window instead. He waited until he heard Clark's footsteps retreat before looking up, not wanting to face the ruins of his one and only friendship.

Lex felt like crying, like screaming or like throwing something. The tumbler went first, crashing through the stained glass window with a satisfying rain of multi-colored shards. The chair was next. It became a blur after that.

Sitting in darkness in the wreckage of his office, the sun had long set, Lex wondered when it all had gone so wrong.


End file.
